"Friend Joel, when I was your guest, you asked my name. I answered that I was called _Soldier_ so long as our old Gaul should be under the oppressor's scourge. The hour has come when we must show ourselves faithful to the motto of our fathers: 'In all war, there is but one of two outcomes for the man of courage: to conquer or to die.'[8] O, that my love for our common country be not barren! O, that Hesus keep our arms! Perhaps then the Chief of the Hundred Valleys will have washed off the stain which covers a name he no longer dares to bear.[9] Courage, friend Joel, the sons of your tribe are brave of the brave. What blows will they not deal on this day which makes for the welfare of Gaul!" "My tribe will strike its best, and with all its might," answered my father. "We have not forgotten that song of the bards who accompanied you, when the first war-cry burst from them in the forest of Karnak: 'Strike the Roman hard--strike for the head--still harder--strike!--The Romans, strike!'" With one voice the whole tribe of Joel took up the cry: "Strike!--The Romans, strike!" CHAPTER VII. THE BATTLE OF VANNES. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys took his departure, in order to address a few words of exhortation to each tribe. Before proceeding to our post of battle, far from the war chariots which held our wives, daughters and children, my father, brother and myself wished to make sure by a last look that nothing was lacking for the defense of that car which held our dear ones. My mother, Margarid, as calm as when she held the distaff in the corner of her own fireplace, was leaning against the oak panel which formed the body of the chariot. She had set Henory and Martha to work, giving more play to the straps which, fastened to pegs driven in the edge of the chariot, secured the handles of the scythes, which were used for defense in the same manner as oars fastened to the gunwhale of a boat. Several young girls and women of our kindred were occupied with other cares. Some were preparing behind the chariots, with thick skins stretched on cords, a retreat where the children would be under cover from the arrows and stones thrown by the slingers and archers of the enemy. Already the children were laughing and frolicking with joyous cries around the half finished den. As an additional protection, my mother Margarid, watchful in everything, had some sacks filled with grain placed in front of the hut. Other young girls were placing, along the interior walls of the car, knives, swords and axes, to be used in case of need, and weighing no more on their strong white arms than did the distaff. Two of their companions, kneeling near my mother, were opening chests of linen, and preparing oil, balm, salt and witch-hazel, to dress the wounds, following the example of the druidesses, near whom the car was stationed.